The Journey Matters More Than The Destination
by Spaz the Adventurer
Summary: A self insert that tries to be honest in how I would react to being dropped into the Hunter X Hunter world, and the choices I would make. So in a sense I try to bring reason to an anime/manga which will probably have mixed results.


Prologue

Death, it is something that every living being will someday experience. Sometimes it is a vicious violent affair and other times a peaceful slumber. Despite its inevitability death is an unknown and as such it is almost universally feared by rational life. We can not speak to one who has died thus we can not truly discover what comes after death. Even if one person did and was able to share their experiences of what came after death how would we know that the same thing would happen for us. We couldn't. In spite this allow me to share my own experiences with what comes after, or at least what came after for me. For as Dumbledore once told Harry "death is just the next great adventure".

My death was fortunately painless in that I passed away whilst asleep. I came to consciousness in a white hallway. The walls were white the furniture was white the doors were white, my God those white doors stretched ever onward down both sides of the hallway to the point where they disappeared into the horizon in that never endind white hallway. Ignoring the impossibly numerous doors I turned to the only furniture in the hallway. An armchair and an end-table. Upon the end-table was a letter, on plain white paper. It read simply "you are dead, choose your path, all are unique". A short letter, but one that held such a great weight it felt has though I held a bag of bricks instead.

I sat down. I couldn't be dead could I? I mean when you die you should either go to heaven or hell. Not some door ridden hallway with a letter telling you to choose a path with no information regarding where each door lead. No this is more likely a dream. Upon thinking so, a small sparkle of white appeared where the letter was. When the sparkles had dispersed there was another letter. This one read "this is no dream, choose your path".

With that quick and sharp rebuttal to my just barely developing hope. I stand up wearily eyeing the doors that line the hallway seeming to leer ominously over me. I open the one directly in front of me a crack. Peering into the room beyond I see nothing but darkness. Closing the door I go to the next door only to see the same sight. The same is true for the next five doors I check. Coming to the realization that there is likely no visual difference between the rooms beyond each door I returned to the first door I had opened. It made no sense. The first letter said that all are unique so why was it that the rooms beyond each door looked identical. Perhaps it was not what is first visible that is unique but something that is further within. I Glanced back at the white armchair and end-table having hoped that maybe another letter would have appeared, for naught, there was no letter. I then stepped through the door.

The room beyond the door is less of a room and more of another hallway. Through the pitch black I stumbled my way forward with one hand on the wall searching for something. Maybe if there was a turn or perhaps yet another door. The further I tread the more uneasy I felt. The more it felt as if there was no returning. As I ventured yet further down the hallway I remembered my parents always pushed me to be better, yet were still always proud to call me their son. I remembered my little sister always annoying me and I her, yet still enjoying time spent with each other. I remembered the card games that I spent countless afternoons playing with my grandparents. I remembered hours wasted, yet not wasted playing video games with friends. As I traveled in the pitch black I vowed not to forget those I left behind . I started to feel a wetness on my face. Why? Why was it raining in this pitch black hallway.

Light. It took a few moments for me to realize that the hallway was no longer pitch black and that light was now seeping into the room. It took little time to find the source of the light, for it came from under the crack of a door at the end of the hallway. I slowed to stop in front of the door, looked behind me into the infinite dark and then opened the door.

The light beyond was so blinding that when I first stepped into the new room I did not notice that there was no floor. And so I fell. I screamed in terror as I fell and fell and fell. Until I had no breath for screaming nor even enough to stay conscious at all. I awoke in darkness of the same pitch as the hallway before. Only there was no hallway, there were no doors, only the all encompassing darkness and the urge to sleep, and so I did.

Time passed I have no idea how much time passed. Only that I went through cycles of sleep and consciousness. Even when awake I always felt the need for more sleep. During the short times that I was both conscious and able to fight off sleep, I was not able to do anything or see anything. I could only draw upon old memories of what was behind me, before sleep would take me once more.

Then suddenly I was awake. It was no longer dark, nor blinding light, but all I could see was what appeared to be a ceiling. I couldn't move my head even though I wanted to. I cried. Why? There was no reason for me to be crying. So I stopped. But why had I cried at all. As I was pondering this I heard a door open. A woman appeared in my vision. She was pale, but not a sickly pale with bright blue eyes and had caramel coloured hair that fell around her shoulders. She looked to be in her twenties or so and looked at me worriedly, yet with such a light of joy and love in her gaze. The kind a mother would give her crying child. I looked into her bright eyesand as her face became all I could see, the situation revealed itself to me. I was this woman's child. I was a baby, and I had to live again. "Choose your path, all are unique". I remembered what the letter had said and so I would live this life, but not forgetting, no never forgetting my first.

**AN: This is the prologue of the first story I have ever written. So if you have any constructive criticism to give I will happily receive.**


End file.
